


Stitches

by pollitt



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post Zombie Apocolypse Home Ec, Secret Seamstress Skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is on a mission and Maxine can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewondersmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewondersmith/gifts).



> Written for the Zombies, Run Exchange for thewondersmith, who asked for some Jack or Eugene and/or pre-game Paula and Maxine, especially when they first meet. So I tried to do a bit of both. 
> 
> I did injure Eugene a little, but I promise, it's only a flesh wound. And he makes a voice appearance and his usual snarky self.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to electricchicken for running this mad (in the best possible way) exchange, and for cheering on my 11:59:59th hour Hail Mary

Maxine blinks, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. When her vision clears she’s happy to see that everything had receded back to the singular. It’s been a really long day.

“Sorry, can you say that one more time? What do you need me to do?” she asks again, looking at Jack. 

“Can you teach me how to sew?” Jack says holding Eugene’s bloodied trousers in his hand. 

She had to hand it to him, and to life for that matter. Maxine didn’t think she could still be surprised like that, but apparently she still could. Of the questions that she had expected Jack to ask, her assumption had been more along the lines of recovery time, pain management, and the best way to keep the wound clean (although she knew he was probably more of an expert in that area than anyone else at Abel). She wasn’t expected to be asked about a skillset she may or may not have mastered in middle school home ec class. 

“I...” she starts to say, looking down at the gauze and antibiotics in her hand and for a moment she forgets why they’re there. “How do you know I can sew?” 

“I’ve seen your handiwork up close and personal, doctor. In case you’ve forgotten.” 

“Stitching together human flesh isn’t the same as stitching together two pieces of fabric.” 

“True,” Jack interrupts, accepting the materials Maxine hands him with a small nod and smile. “But I also know you’re Sam’s source for emergency repairs to his favorite shirt. I’ve heard all about the extraordinary measures you’ve taken to keep that thing in one piece, and I promise I’ll keep your secret seamstress skills a secret if you promise to help me.”

“What exactly are you looking for me to teach you?”

“I need to fix Eugene’s trousers so that he doesn’t trip over the empty leg opening. I don’t care if that means no one else can wear them. Abel is large enough, we have enough Runners now who have gone on enough supply missions that we don’t have to worry about community sharing of trousers. It bad enough he doesn’t have a belt and has been known to flash bits I’m not looking to share at passersby, but after today...” Jack shakes his head, a fond, if exasperated, look crossing his face. “We have reached my one head wound limit, so it’s off with the excess fabric. And considering the weather. I just think it would makes sense to sew the leg closed.”

Maxine feels something between a sigh and a laugh bubble in her chest at Jack’s reasoning, the determination on his face. She should have guessed, putting two (Jack holding Eugene’s trousers) and two (the same trousers Eugene was wearing when he tripped and cracked open his head, requiring stitches) together, but she was willing to give herself some slack. 

Sewing lessons weren’t exactly on her schedule for the day, but Paula had always said Maxine was a pushover -- that Maxine fell in love with her more because she remembered to bring home the latest Demons expansion pack and a bottle of corner shop wine than when she gave her a dozen roses and diamonds -- and it was and still is true. Plus, Jack and Eugene do tend to bring out the sap in her. She can’t help but be a pushover for true love found in a post-zombie plague world. 

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not even Eugene. I’m already in demand for stitching people back together. I can’t take emergency fabric rips and rends as well.”

“My lips are sealed, Maxine, thank you.” Jack throws his arms around Maxine’s neck and she’s startled for a moment but recovers quickly. She hugs him back. 

“So, speaking of Mr. Woods. Where is he?” 

“Faceplanted on our mattress and on the good drugs, considering he didn’t even move when I wrestled these off of him.” Jack follows Maxine further into her quarters and watches as she retrieves the ammo box that has now become her sewing kit.

“That I would have liked to have seen.”

“Doctor!” Jack says in a mock scandalized tone. 

Maxine smiles and shrugs and pulls out a pair of scissors, a pack of needles and some thread. “I’ll do this pair and you can watch. I can give you some needle and thread for the rest of his clothes. The scissors you’ll have to source yourself, though.”

“Don’t worry, doc. I know a guy.” She’s guessing Jack wanted to go for something suitably Jersey, but it comes out sounding more like he just has a bad cold. “And a girl.”

She hands Jack the pair of trousers and tells him to mark where the end of the leg should be and then to add a handspan length for movement and seams. Jack holds the trousers to his waist and closes his eyes and Maxine watches as he pats his own thigh and pictures, she knows, where Eugene’s body fits against his, where his leg ends. He pinches the fabric and opens his eyes. She pretends not to notice the rapidly blinking and the small cough before he answers, “Just here.”

“Paula used to love to watch me sew,” Maxine says, threading the needle. “She said-- She said it reminded her of when we first met.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Jack takes the scissors and cuts through the fabric. “Did you eyes meet over swatches and it was true love? Now that you say it, ‘Let me take your measurements, baby’ is a great pick-up line.” 

Jack smiles, and Maxine can feel a flush prickle her neck and cheeks. 

“Not hardly. No, I was, well, I was making an outfit for one of Paula’s friends for a Renn Faire, and the day they were supposed to pick it up their wagon had cracked a wheel -- the wood split all the way through -- and Paula had to pick up the dress. I’d seen Paula around, both in professional and social settings but had never said more than a hello and then there she was at my door and I’m handing her a leather bodice and this huge skirt and there might have been some buckles, and she’s trying to explain how her friend called on her cell phone about her carriage breaking down.”

“After a formal meeting like that what could we do but have to go out for a drink to laugh about it.” Maxine looks down at the fabric in her hands and admires the clean line of stitches. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, and from his tone of voice, she’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean for the sewing lesson, as it were.

She feels like she should be thanking him. She hasn’t thought about that night in some time. 

“Oh, and Jack?” Maxine says, as Jack turns to walk back home. She holds out her hand. “Here.”

When he extends his hand, she drops three safety pins into his palm. “It’s not a belt, but it might help keep Eugene’s pants on his hips.”

“Thanks.” Jack grins, like he has to swallow back a laugh. She can’t miss the gleam in his eye and so she adds, knowing he wouldn’t, but she just had to make sure... “Just don’t pin them _to_ him.” 

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

She’s still laughing as he leaves.

\-----

“I still can’t believe you did this,” Eugene says as the final piano chords and chorus fade out from the Boomtown Rats’s explanation of why they like Mondays. “I didn’t know you knew which end to thread on a needle.”

“Hey! For all you know I apprenticed at Savile Row. You don’t know _all_ of my secrets,” Jack says, sounding a bit smug. 

“Everyone, if you’re just tuning in and you’re asking what on Earth it is that I’m talking about, Jack here performed some covert tailoring on my clothing last night.”

“Because,” Jack interrupts, “ _someone_ \--with the initials EBW, quite possibly--decided to get tangled up in his trousers as we were strolling home, and that led to trauma and no matter what you say, head wounds are not attractive.”

“So you stole my pants while I was asleep...”

Jack’s snorts into the microphone and there’s a few moments of silence before Eugene says, “What? Oh good grief. You’re _so_...”

Maxine smiles as the conversation cuts off and the familiar guitar chords of some classic Queen queue up on the radio.


End file.
